New Years Eve
by MademoiselleSpooky
Summary: Scully has invited Mulder for New Year's Eve.  He has decided it is time to tell her how much he loves her.  How will they ring in the New Year?  if you've read anything of mine, you can probably guess!
1. Chapter 1

New Year's Eve

5 p.m.

I am in my car, parked outside Scully's apartment. It is New Year's Eve, and although I never go out, she has invited me over to her place to welcome in the new year.

I am not sure why she has invited me, but my stomach is in knots. It has been 6 years since she was assigned to work as my partner on the X Files. I fell in love with her the moment she walked into my office. I have been in love with her ever since. I have sat up nights worrying about her. I have paced the halls while she had chemotherapy performed upon her. I have comforted her when her father died suddenly. I have rescued her from people that want to harm her. I have spent many nights wishing she were there with me. I have imagined a perfect little life for us, down to such detail that sometimes I have to remind myself it is not true.

The one thing I have not done is told her I love her. But I believe in the new year bringing a fresh beginning. I have decided that it is time to tell her the truth. Time to take her into my arms, gaze into her beautiful green eyes, and confess, steeling myself for what I fear is the inevitable rejection.

Dana Scully is more beautiful, more fascinating, and more intelligent than any woman I have ever met. I fail to understand why she does not go on more dates, as she could have any man she wanted. On the rare occasion she does go out on a date, I sit at home and worry about her until she gets home, wishing I were the one taking her out, and also beating myself up for never asking.

Tonight she has asked me to join her to celebrate the new year. I haven't been able to eat all day, I am so nervous. I have brought along a couple of bottles of champagne. I realized at the store that I didn't know if she preferred dry or sweet. I should know that. I bought both and they are sitting on the passenger seat of the car, icy cold.

There's something else too. Whenever I fantasize about telling her I love her, the fantasy invariably ends with us falling into bed. When I bought the champagne, I also bought a box of condoms. I felt like I was 16 again buying them—I was incredibly embarrassed. I know I took far too long in front of the display trying to decide which kind to purchase. I haven't bought them in forever. I have not been with a woman in 7 years. I have been waiting for Dana.

I feel ridiculous, like I'm on a first date. This is my partner of 6 years, my best friend. The only person I trust. And yet I am utterly terrified. As much as I have been looking forward to this, I almost wish I had declined the invitation.

I open the box of condoms and stick three of them in my wallet. I put the rest of the box in the glove compartment. I stuff the receipt (damning evidence) into the ashtray and snap it shut. I take the two bottles of champagne and take a deep breath. Pretty soon she'll look outside for some reason and see my car collecting snow in the street, and she'll wonder what the hell I'm doing out here.

I gather my courage and ring her doorbell, trying my best to look both festive and nonchalant. She opens the door looking radiant. She always looks radiant but her joyous smile and the tinge of pink in her cheeks makes her look more beautiful than I have ever seen. She's wearing a pair of black yoga pants and a pink tee shirt. Her feet are bare. She's holding a wineglass and grinning at me. I do not deserve to be here.

"Hey Scully" I manage to say, and I even manage to say it without nervous laughter or my voice cracking or some other betrayal of my inner anxiety. "I wasn't sure what kind of champagne you liked, so I brought both." I hold up the bottles.

She giggles. "I like all kinds of champagne." She holds up her wineglass. "Hope you don't mind I got a head start."

I shake my head and will myself not to blush. I'm late because I was buying condoms and then sitting in the car afraid to walk to the door. Some hero. "I don't mind at all". I tell her, and walk into her apartment.

Her apartment always amazes me. My apartment is pretty much a student apartment. My kitchen is a cramped box, which doesn't matter because I never cook. I sleep on my couch. My walls are "rental white", that ubiquitous apartment hue that's neither cream nor white, and manages to simply look dirty most of the time. I have exactly two lamps, and most of the time I don't even bother to turn them on because I work by the light of the TV.

Scully's apartment, on the other hand, is like heaven. It feels warm and cozy like home. Her walls are a soft cream color, with white woodwork outlining the windows and doors. She has curtains over the windows and plushy furniture. Fresh flowers sit in a vase on the counter. Little bowls of snacks dot the tables and counters. Her bedroom door is closed but I have seen inside. Warm golden tones and crisp white linens, a puffy blanket that looks like a cloud. Warm wooden furniture and dim romantic lights. I need to stop thinking about her bedroom.

I hang up my coat and she puts the champagne into the fridge. The light actually works in her fridge and it is filled with plates and bottles and jars and cans and packages of food. I selfishly hope she has cooked me dinner.

"So Mulder, what would you like for dinner?" she asks, reading my mind. "I went to the store and I have everything from steaks to pasta to chicken. I felt like cooking, and I figured you would appreciate my efforts."

What kind of jerk would not appreciate her efforts? She could serve me macaroni and cheese and I would be thrilled just to be eating with her. "Surprise me." I say. She takes a spotless wineglass from a cabinet and pours me a glass of wine. She gives me a saucy look.

"And how would you like me to surprise you?" she asks, grinning. I have to bite my tongue to keep from beginning a list. Finding out what she has on under those yoga pants would be the first item on that list.

"Steak." I say, needing to divert the conversation, as other parts of my body are registering their interest in that list item as well. I take a sip of wine. "Steak sounds great." She turns and starts pulling things out of the fridge. I try not to look at her perfect little ass. Seven years is a very long time. I perch on one of the barstools by the counter so that I can chat with her, and also so I can hide my erection. Again I feel like I am 16.

"I have garlic...and good black pepper...steak _au poivre_?" she asks, looking up at me.

"Sounds wonderful." I reply, and it does. She also has asparagus and the tiniest potatoes I've ever seen.

"These are called creamer potatoes." she says, holding up the bag. They are like walnuts. "They taste so good you hardly even need butter." she opens the bag and dumps them out into a pot. "Of course, I put butter on them anyway." She winks and holds up a ceramic butter dish.

"Don't worry I won't tell the AMA." I joke. The American Medical Association. She laughs back at me. Her laugh is beautiful—almost musical.

"If you studied the chemistry of those fake butter products, you'd stick with butter too."

I watch her as she chops garlic and grinds pepper and heats a skillet until it's smoking hot. Every movement of her hands is perfectly orchestrated. I never realized she liked to cook so much, or that she was so good at it. I would happily eat at her table any night of the week.

Spicy, savory flavors begin to fill the kitchen and my stomach growls. My erection has, for the time at least, settled down as I realize how hungry I am. I finish the glass of wine and help myself to another.

"Mulder, I'm so glad you could come over tonight." She says, smiling at me. I'm melting inside. "I never do anything on New Year's. Back when I worked as the county medical examiner I had to post all the bodies from the drunk driving accidents and overdoses...frankly it put me off going out at all." She put the steaks into the skillet and they sizzled loudly. My mouth watered. "I think it's not safe to drive at all on big party nights." She paused, looking down intently at the sizzling meat. "I didn't mention it before but I cleared off the guest bed for you. I'd really rather you didn't drive tonight either."

She wants me to spend the night. In the guest room. But she wants me to spend the night. A whole night in her plush, sweet smelling apartment, just on the other side of the wall from her. I actually feel incredibly touched by her trust in me. I also feel a small twinge of hope that I won't end up in the guest room after all. "Thank you so much." I manage to say. "That would be really nice."

She looks at me a little bit funny. Was she expecting me to say something different? Maybe she was expecting me to make a raunchy joke. But as unusual as it is for me, I am not in a joking mood.  
What I have to tell her in the next 6 hours is too important. It's the most important thing I've ever said, ever felt. Apparently it isn't bothering her too much though, as she has moved on to the asparagus, neatly snipping the ends off and placing it in a pile, like little logs.

"I like asparagus sauteed, how about you?" she asks.

"I just like asparagus." I reply. I watch her delicate little hands as she deftly chops garlic, pours a golden pool of olive oil into a saute pan, and then sweeps in the garlic bits. She stirs with one hand while the other hand is poking at the steaks. It is fascinating to watch.

"Me too." She takes another drink of wine, and pulls two plates from the cabinet, setting them down on the counter with silverware. On her way past, she scoops the asparagus into the hot oil and tosses it around. It sizzles and hisses as the outside becomes seared. The smell of garlic makes my mouth water. She disappears around the corner to the dining room table to put the plates out. "It will be ready in 5 minutes if you want to wash up!" she calls over her shoulder.

I take the opportunity to duck into the bathroom. My nerves have begun to work on me again. I know that she thinks I'm being unusually quiet. I worry that she knows why. I worry that she does not feel the same. I also worry that she does feel the same, and that I will somehow screw it up.

Her bathroom smells like her. Little sparkling bottles line the counter. A pile of fluffy pink towels sits waiting. The hint of her perfume is in the air. I think I also smell strawberries—her shampoo? I feel like a moose barging into a salon. I am positive my bathroom does not smell anything like strawberries and my towels are a sad shade of gray. They are far from fluffy. I can picture her relaxing in the bath, bubbles surrounding her, her eyes closed as she gives over to the heat and steam and fragrance.

I'm hard again. I want her so much. I'm no stranger to having to control my thoughts to avoid embarrassment. After all, I have worked with Dana for 6 years. I am used to thinking about baseball stats, conspiracies, hell even thinking about AD Skinner in order to keep myself in line. But the wine has eroded my self control. My body is reminding me that my hand is just not the same as a woman. And 7 years is a very long time.

As I wash my hands and splash cold water on my face, I am able to calm myself down. I think about the delicious dinner that is about to be set in front of me. I think about the 1979 World Series. I think about garlic. I am finally able to think about hunger more than sex. I dry my hands and face on an impossibly fluffy pink towel and double check. I'm presentable. I leave the bathroom and head for the dining room.


	2. Chapter 2

New Year's Eve

Chapter 2

7 p.m.

The dinner that Scully has made me is more delicious than anything I have had, ever. The steaks are seared perfectly and cooked to the ultimate medium rare. The asparagus is tender yet retains a slight crispness, and the garlic gives it a heady kick. The potatoes are indeed good enough to eat without butter, although both of us butter them anyway. The red wine she pours is tart and tannic and elevates the meal to utter perfection. Best of all, I am eating at Dana Scully's dining room table, with her beautiful face looking back at me across it.

"So how is it?" she asks.

"Splendid." I reply. "Really, you should be a gourmet chef."

She ducks behind her wine glass and waves a hand at me, laughing. "Oh Mulder you're just being nice. Thank you though."

"Where did you learn to cook like this?" I ask.

"I watch waaaaay too many cooking shows on cable." She whispers, a smile twinkling in her eyes. I laugh.

"Maybe I should watch those instead of the naughty channels." I try a slightly raunchy joke to see how it goes over. Maybe it's the wine. She just shakes her head as she gets up and takes her empty plate into the kitchen. I follow suit, almost running into her at the doorway. She giggles a little, takes my plate, and places it in the sink.

"Let's go sit down in the living room and finish this wine." she suggests. I duck back into the dining room to collect our glasses and then sink into a velvety luxurious couch. It feels like I'm sitting on a mound of pillows, it's so soft. She sits on the opposite end of it and brings her feet up underneath her. I notice that her toenails are painted red.

There is an awkward silence as neither of us quite know what to say. I do not feel ready to spring my confession on her yet. But the other quarters of my psyche, no longer having hunger as an excuse, are making their desires known. I worry that I will have to retire early to avoid embarrassment, and will fail at the chance to tell her how I feel.

Scully sets down her wineglass and scoots over closer to me on the couch. Her pupils are dilated in their verdant green fields, and her cheeks are flushed. I catch a whiff of strawberries as she settles herself right close, almost touching me. Then she reaches out and puts her hand on my shoulder. I nearly explode. "Mulder, is something bothering you tonight? You're so quiet."

Part of me wants to tell her right there. Part of me wants to tackle her on the couch and make love to her. Part of me wants to cry at the tenderness of this moment. I do none of the above. I divert with humor as I always do.

"They say drinking brings out your true self. How do you know my true self is not just quiet and contemplative?" I ask, with a smile. I pray this works. It doesn't.

"Mulder, I'm not stupid. I've known you for 6 years now, and I know when something is bothering you. Please share with me. Maybe I can help."

I melt inside as she looks at me sweetly, offering to help. The words I need to say are right on the tip of my tongue. I cannot make myself say them quite yet. I am not sure if I can breathe. I try desperately to think of another smartass comment.

"How do you know I'm not just depressed that I can't cook like you?" I throw that one out there in a last ditch effort. It doesn't work either. I must be losing my touch.

She shifts next to me and I realize she is climbing into my lap, straddling me. Now I am certain I cannot breathe. I am also hard again. And she is going to brush right up against me and there will be no finessing or joking my way out of this one. I'm sitting on her couch digesting the world's best meal, with a giant boner. Classy.

Her face is right up in mine, her lips merely a breath away from mine. Her hands rest on my chest, and then slowly slide up my neck and into my hair, leaving tingles in their wake. I think I may die of pleasure right here on the couch. Her hands slide back down and start massaging my neck with maddeningly delicious precision. Her little fingers work into each muscle separately, sending waves of sensation through my entire body. Her belly nudges my erection as she reaches further down my back, but she says nothing.

My head is clouded with delicious sensations and with wine. I want to tell her, I really do. As much as I want to make love to her, I want to tell her how much I love her first. I don't believe the words have the same gravity unless they happen before intimacy. It is too easy to confuse intimacy and love. But even though she is sitting in my lap, I worry that my confession will scare her off. My confidence in myself is practically nil.

Her silky hands are working their way back up my neck and around the front to my shoulders and my chest. I reach up and put my hands around her wrists. "Dana." I whisper. I look into her eyes, which at first register hurt. She thinks I'm going to stop her. She is mistaken. I reach up and stroke her cheek, feeling like my rough hand is somehow defiling her soft ivory face. "Dana, I love you. I love you more than anything else in this world. I have loved you for 6 years now. And I needed to tell you that. I love you."

Her eyes grow wide and her cheeks grow pinker. A tiny tear forms in the corner of her left eye and quivers, unsure if it will fall or not. My heart is in my throat. And then a smile breaks over her face like the most amazing sunrise.

"Fox." she breathes. "Say it again. That was...that was so beautiful." The tear falls down, leaving a little trail behind it. I reach up and catch it as it courses down her face.

"I love you." This time the words come stronger, and with the immense relief of having finally unburdened myself. She is still in my lap. And now she is leaning down to rest her perfect lips on mine. The moment they touch is electric. My entire body feels the effects. I am lost in this kiss.

She breaks the kiss and leans over, her lips nearly touching my ear. "I love you too." she says. A thrill shoots through me and I think I might cry with relief. I have waited 6 years to tell her this. I have spent 6 years alternately trying to talk myself into it and talk myself out of it. Now I am sinking into her overstuffed couch with her perfect little self perched in my lap. She loves me too. Every cell in my body is singing with elation.

And I have no idea what to do now. I never thought I would get to this moment. I never bothered to think about what would come after. I am stunned in the most pleasurable way when I realize that she is running her tongue around the edge of my ear. Because she is leaning over, her entire body is pressed up against mine, and my erection is throbbing against her. I cannot move away, and in no way do I want to. When she tilts her hips to press into me even harder, a giggle escapes her lips and tickles my ear. I realize she not only isn't bothered by my erection, but it is turning her on. I could die a happy man right now.

Should I lie down on the couch, pulling her down with me? Do I let her take the lead? Do I suggest we retire to the bedroom? She is tugging at my shirt, pulling it up over my head. For the third time tonight, I feel as though I am 16; awkward and inexperienced. I don't know if I should remove her shirt as well or see what she has in store for me.

"Mulder." She says softly. "Mulder I want you." Oh how I have wanted to hear those words. Countless nights I have fantasized the many different situations in which she might say those sweet words to me. And now she is in my lap, undressing me, telling me she wants me. I do not know how I got to be this lucky. I want her so much I am pretty sure I will explode. I feel lightheaded.

"Do you want to stay here?" I manage to ask. "Or do you want to move to the bedroom?"

"Yes." She replies, and a wave of dizziness overtakes me again. This is even better than the fantasies I have enjoyed with myself.

I slip my hands under the hem of her shirt and stroke her back. She moans and presses against me again. I am so hard I ache. I need her. I need to be inside of her. I need to slow down so that I can love her the way she deserves to be loved.

I pull off her tee shirt, still waiting to hear her protest, but she doesn't. Her small breasts are cupped gently in a white cotton bra. I can see her nipples through the material. They are hard, poking out. My hand reaches up to stroke them and I can hardly believe what I am feeling. I hook a finger onto the edge of the cup and pull the fabric down. She leans over and places her nipple in my mouth. I swirl my tongue around it, moaning as I do. Her moans mingle with mine and she squirms in my lap.

Her hands are in my lap, trying to undo the button on my pants, but they are straining around me so tight that she is having trouble. She goes for the zipper and before I can offer to help I am in her hand. I am hot and throbbing. Her hand is cool and gentle. She squeezes me lightly and I gasp. I feel her hand run over my head and encircle my shaft again. Another moan escapes my lips. She leans down and kisses me, her hand still around me, moving slowly up and down, driving me wild.

I gently guide her into a lying position on the couch. She wiggles her hips a little, urging me to remove her pants. Beneath the black yoga pants are silky satin panties. In my fantasies, I always figured she would wear cotton. I am not complaining. I can't help reaching out and stroking the shiny material. It is damp between her legs. Four hours ago I was sitting in my car thinking I should have not come here. Now I am shirtless on her couch, and she is nearly naked, wet and aroused and ready for me, wanting me to make love to her.

I pause for just a moment to drink in the beautiful sight before me. That thin cotton bra with her nipples poking up, straining at the fabric. Those silky white panties, with a tiny little bow on them. I slide a finger underneath the elastic on her hip and begin to draw them off slowly, watching her for a reaction. She lifts her hips to make it easier.

I unbutton my jeans and ease them down. My erection is sticking straight out of my boxers. I feel embarrassed for some reason. I look at her and she is smiling. I pull off my shorts and sink back onto the couch. She has removed her bra and is holding out her arms, beckoning to me.

"I have a condom in my wallet." I say, because I do not know how to bring up the subject any other way.

"Mulder I can't get pregnant. And I know we are both disease free." She looks at me as if she expects an argument. I don't have one. I have never made love without a condom before. The thought of having absolutely nothing between us is almost enough to make me come right there and ruin everything. But I hold back and lower myself into her arms. My lips find hers and the kiss makes me feel faint. Her hips are lifting up, coaxing me to enter her. I am suddenly scared. But her hand snakes between us and guides me in.

I know what heaven feels like. She is slick and warm and soft and she wraps around me like nothing I have ever felt before. I am aching hard and I do not know how long I can hold off before I explode in her. She lifts her hips, inviting me to thrust deep inside of her. I do. There are not words for how good it feels. I groan. I am all of the way inside of her; I can feel her cervix touching me. My heart wants to explode—I am so filled with love and desire that I worry I am going to start crying. She reaches up and pulls me down so that my entire weight is on top of her, but the couch is so soft that she isn't uncomfortable. She arches her back and tilts her hips, and I feel her tightening around me. Her breathing comes hard and that pink flush stains her chest and her breasts. I am torn between watching her beautiful face as she comes and adding to her experience by gently sucking on her nipples. I choose the latter and she cries out with pleasure. She cries out my name—Fox. I don't mind.

I feel her relax beneath me and she wraps her legs around me and draws me in deeper. "I love you, Fox." she whispers in my ear. I cannot hold back any longer. I explode inside of her, coming harder and longer than I ever recall. Wave after wave of delicious pleasure wracks my body as I thrust deep into her over and over.

I collapse onto her and immediately roll to the side so I don't crush her. A slight sheen of sweat glazes her body, and she is smiling up at me. I wonder if I am going to pass out. I feel like there are no bones in my body. She tucks a satiny throw pillow under my head, and puts her head on my chest. We are naked and sweaty, still clutching each other. I never want to let go.

"Mulder?" she asks, breaking the silence.

"Yes?"

"I don't actually want you to sleep in the guest bedroom." Her statement is so sweet that I burst out laughing, holding her close to me as I do. She reaches for her wineglass, stretching over me so that her breasts tickle my lips. I close my mouth around one and nip at it. She giggles, spilling a little wine on me. "You know it's only 9 o'clock." she says. "We still have to stay up for 3 more hours."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

9:30 p.m.

We have moved to the bedroom, having shed all of our clothes in the living room. Scully's formerly spotless living room now has clothing thrown all over the floor and draped over the coffee table. I find this in and of itself hot.

"I'm going to freshen up a little." She says, with a little smile. She disappears into the bathroom. I sit down on the edge of her bed. I just had sex with Dana Scully. Amazing sex. I am grateful that I was not idiot enough to decline her invitation. I wonder if she thought we would end up doing this when she asked me to join her. One part of me hopes she did. The idea of my beautiful titian-haired partner, the love of my life, the most gorgeous creature on earth plotting to seduce me is the stuff of my hottest fantasies. One part of me finds it equally hot to imagine that she had no plans beyond dinner but was overcome by lust and desire. This, too, is the stuff of fantasies. I have a lot of fantasies featuring her.

Dana has not yet returned to the room and I am hard again. My balls are clenched up tight—I need to come again. I am surprised actually. An orgasm of that magnitude would typically wipe me out for the next 24 hours. Typically, however, I am not sitting naked in Dana Scully's bedroom, having just broken a 7 year dry spell.

I hear the door and feel a rush of embarrassment. Although I've just shared the ultimate in intimacy with her, I still feel sheepish about sitting naked in her bed with a hard on. A lusty smile lights up her face. The embarrassment evaporates. Another rush of desire makes me even harder.

At some point she has lit candles in the room, and their soft glow turns her ivory skin to a warm peach. Her nipples are bright pink. Her private hair matches the dark fiery hair on her head. She has a small birthmark on her hip. A brief expression of worry crosses her face. "Was I not good enough out there?" she asks.

The very idea that she would not be good enough breaks my heart. "My God no, Dana." I almost laugh but at the last minute hold back. "That was the best I've ever had. I just..." I swallow. Do I tell her how long it has been? Do I tell her I'm just greedy and want to come with her all night long? Before I can answer, she's on her knees between my knees, her hot, wet tongue slowly sliding up from my balls to my head. I thought I was in heaven before.

Of course this act has been featured in my fantasies many times, but she continues to surprise me; her technique is amazing. Her little hands are everywhere, stroking the underside of my sack and circling my shaft. Her mouth closes around me and draws me all the way into her throat. I never want her to stop. I have to lay down or I am literally going to faint.

"Dana". I say hoarsely, barely able to find my voice. She looks up at me, with me still in her mouth. My sweet goodness. "I need to lie down." I tell her.

She stands up, puts her hands on my shoulders, and pushes me down onto the bed. She perches on top of my belly and grins at me. "I'm not sure which way I should turn." she says. "Do I scoot down this way..." she moves her body down and strokes me with herself without taking me in. "Or do I turn this way and do this?" She turns around and places herself on my face and takes me into her mouth. "Do you have a preference?"

"Both". I say, sticking out my tongue and working it into that sensitive spot at the top of her flower. She moans, and the vibrations of her moan travel through me. I use my lips to nip at her gently, and she moans for me again. Her tongue is swirling around me and teasing the top of my head. One hand is at the base of my shaft, squeezing me gently, and one cool little hand is stroking away at my balls. I am overcome with amazing sensations. I am going to come very soon. I don't know if I should warn her or not.

Before I can decide, my orgasm overtakes me and I am coming hard and fast, thrusting up into her mouth. Over my own moans of pleasure I can hear her moaning as she is coming right on my tongue. We both relax at the same time. She is wiping off her mouth. I am floored that she swallowed me.

"Where did you learn to do THAT?" she asks, still out of breath.

"An elective course." I reply, pulling myself up onto my elbows so I can kiss her. She tastes like me. Far from finding it disgusting I actually am incredibly aroused by it.

"Mulder, that was truly amazing." She says, reaching for the wine bottle and glasses on the night table. "I think I need another drink." She smiles.

While she's pouring, my head is still spinning. My worry that she thinks she isn't satisfying me returns as the blood begins to filter back into the other parts of my body, including my brain. She is the most amazing woman I have ever been with, both in the bed and in every other aspect of life. I desperately need her to know this.

"Dana." I say, looking at her seriously. "You are the amazing one. I think I have visited heaven at least twice tonight." It is the complete truth.

"Can I ask an impertinent question?" she asks, raising an eyebrow at me over her wineglass. It is incredibly adorable.

"Of course."

"Every other man I've ever run across needs more of a refractory period than 20 minutes." I have to laugh at her precise medical language. Of course I'm used to hearing it but given the activities we've just enjoyed and her still-naked state, office talk is incredibly amusing.

"Scully. It's just...it's been a long time for me." I can't quite meet her gaze.

"How long?" she asks. I draw a deep breath.

"7 years." her eyes grow wide and she sets down her wineglass.

"Diana?" she asks, her voice almost a whisper. I nod. "Mulder I can't believe that you haven't had more...opportunities?" Now in addition to not meeting her gaze, I am blushing.

"I've had "opportunities". A few. But I didn't want to be with anyone but you." I could cut the silence in the room with a knife.

I feel her hand on my cheek, she is turning me to face her. "Mulder is that the truth?" she asks, her voice barely audible. I can see tears in the corners of her eyes again. I nod, unable to speak. "I love you. I can't believe you've...you've waited for me for 6 years?" I nod again. And now I don't need to speak because she is kissing me. When she comes up for breath, she looks right in my eyes. "So tonight I guess we start making up for lost time."

A shiver runs through my body. I want nothing more. I put my hand behind her head and draw her back down to kiss her again. My other hand begins to move southward.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

11:00 p.m.

We decide to take a break for a glass of wine and a beautiful dessert Scully prepared. She cuts perfect slices of a fruit and custard tart and puts them on fancy little plates. Before we have eaten half of them, however, she is climbing on my lap and I am hard again, so I pick her up and carry her back into the bedroom.

"What do you want to do now?" she asks, between kisses.

"Do you like it from behind?" I ask, surprising myself with my own bluntness.

"We'll find out won't we?" she says. I briefly wonder if perhaps her sex life has been on par with mine lately.

I coax her up on her knees. This view is amazing. Her little ass is shaped like a heart. The position exaggerates her tiny waist. She has her head down and her butt up in the air, presenting herself to me. I slide into her, and this angle is different—she is tighter but so soft, slick, and warm. The curve of her vagina puts a delicious pressure on the head of my cock. I slide in and out a few times, unable to contain a moan. From this position I can see myself sliding in and out of her.

"My God Mulder this feels awesome." she groans, her voice breathless. I smile to myself. I lean over her so I can cup her breasts in my hand. My hands are big and her breasts are so delicate that they both fit in one hand. I tease her nipples one after the other. I groan again as they become hard at my touch, and I feel her tighten around me.

She moans something but I cannot understand her between her breathing and her face being down away from me. She repeats herself and I hear it this time. She's telling me to go faster.

I bring both hands up to grab her hipbones. I use them as leverage to push myself in deeper and harder, making her moan louder. I know why this position is a standard in adult movies—those movies that are not mine. It is incredibly primal—the very essence of fucking.

"Mulder, Mulder, oh my GOD" she cries out, as I feel her tighten hard around me, squeezing me. Her muscles tighten rhythmically, rippling up and down my shaft as I come to my own climax deep inside of her. "That was AMAZING." she sighs, her thighs still quivering slightly. I draw out of her and she rolls over onto her side and looks up at me from beneath her messy hair. "Mmmmmmmm" she moans, smiling.

I cannot believe how lucky I am to be right here right now. I've just had amazing sex with Dana Scully, the love of my life, whom I have waited for for 6 years. She is lying naked, sweaty, and unselfconsciously next to me, looking up at me through those beautiful green eyes. A delicious shiver courses through me. Her gaze is adoring. I have never felt like this before.

"Mulder?" she asks. I reach up and brush the stray hair out of her eyes and place a gentle kiss on her forehead.

"Yes?"

"Did you have any idea the evening would end like this when I invited you over?"

My mind sorts through my possible answers. Did I think this would happen? No. Did I hope this would happen? Well, yes. Did I have any notion of how amazing it would be? Never in a million years. I decide to tell the bald, unvarnished truth.

"Dana, when you invited me over, I was thrilled and scared. I decided that tonight I would tell you that I loved you, because it has been haunting me and gnawing at me for 6 years." I pause for breath. "I never told you before because I was afraid of your response. But I decided I had to tell you, because if you never knew, I just couldn't go on with that secret." She reaches up to stroke my cheek, her little hand leaving tingles in its wake.

"I'm so glad I decided to invite you." she grins at me. While I'm baring my entire soul to her, I decide to go one step further.

"So Scully. When you invited me over, did YOU have any idea the evening would end like this?" Suddenly she is turning red and looking away from me. For a moment I am scared, scared that I have offended her, but I realize she is giggling. If I have ever heard Dana giggle, it has not been very often. I certainly don't recall it. Blushing furiously, she looks back at me.

"I can't lie Mulder. The sexual tension between us has been...intense. You always said that you would never get involved in a relationship again after Diana, and I didn't want to push you." She pauses, as if gauging my reaction. I am feeling like a jerk—she has liked me for 6 years too and my big mouth has gotten the best of me again. "Whenever I felt like I was dropping too heavy of a hint, I got scared that I would hurt you and back off again." She takes a deep breath and goes on.

"So I decided I just couldn't handle it anymore. And...despite my deepest feminist inclinations, I decided to pull an old-fashioned seduction. I decided to cook you an awesome meal, get myself a little drunk, and see if I could find out the truth."

I laugh gently at her story. I find it utterly charming that she cooked that amazing dinner to impress me. It worked. I am completely impressed with her cooking, and absolutely floored by her tender care for my feelings. I am also still angry at myself for unintentionally pushing her away.

My default is to push people away. I feel often that loving people only ends badly. If you love no one, then the people you love cannot be taken away from you, and cannot hurt you either. Over the years I have built a wall around my deepest feelings—I am used to showing the world my dour exterior while I file away all the hurt, all the pain, all the fears and the nightmares and everything else.

But with Dana, I cannot help but allow that wall to break down. She has eroded it away with her sweet words, her lovely dinner, her constant caring and her amazing willingness to chase all over the country with me, believing me when no one else does, putting herself on the line for me over and over again. For the first time in more than 20 years, the wall is down. I feel vulnerable, yet in a way, it feels good. I feel like I can truly give over the care of my heart to her, and I know without a doubt she will not hurt me.

I break from my reverie to bend down and kiss her gently on the lips. The kiss deepens slowly and my hands reach behind her head, holding her to me. I pull away from her just enough to look deeply in her eyes. "You know that they say what you're doing at midnight on New Year's Eve is what you will be doing all year long." I whisper.

She turns her head to look at the clock. There are ten minutes left of this year. She reaches up and grabs my shoulder, pushing me back onto my back. "I know what I want to be doing when that clock strikes." she smiles at me saucily, and I cannot agree with her more.

She takes me slowly inside of her, straddling me, allowing her breasts to brush gently along my chest. Her hands go up behind my head, and she nibbles at my ear. She wraps her legs around me, effectively locking us together in our joined position. I am swelling to fill her, and I begin to tilt my hips into hers. Having fulfilled the primal urge that has tortured us both for 6 long years, we are now able to take it slowly, to enjoy the feeling of oneness, to look into each others' eyes, to allow our tongues to dance langorously around each other in an ever-deepening kiss. I run my hands up and down her sides, memorizing every curve, every hollow, every scar and freckle. I cup her buttocks in my hands and squeeze her to me, and I cannot feel where she ends and I begin.

When the clock strikes midnight, we are still intertwined, thrusting and grinding and sighing, kissing and touching each other, drinking in the amazing force surrounding us and filling us. "Happy New Year, Dana." I whisper in her ear, before kissing her again, so close to coming I am not completely certain whether I said the words aloud or not. I must have, because she responds, just as I reach my climax deep within her.

"Happy New Year, Fox." They are the sweetest words I've ever heard.


End file.
